Catch My Breath
by Aranel Cipriani
Summary: Lonely and bitter, Lovino Vargas spends his days running from a past that he wants nothing more than to forget. Special Agent Antonio Carriedo wants nothing more than to see the Italian move on from his pain and smile, but when Lovino's life is being threatened, Antonio must protect Lovino from his past at all costs.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. **

* * *

Lovino glared at the dismal sky above, a few flurries of snow drifting past his head and dissolving as they hit the hard concrete beneath his feet. He trudged down the walk, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat and his collar pulled up to block out the bitter air.

_I hate winter…_ He thought, deepening the scowl on his face. He turned the corner and quickened his pace, hurrying down the shadowed alley towards the tall brick building on the other side. He jogged up the large stone steps in front of the building and pushed through the heavy front doors of the apartment building he was supposed to call home.

He took his time, making his way up the steps damp from tracked in snow and moisture. He scaled flight after flight, leisurely traveling to his little square of the building on the third floor. When he reached the floor, he drug his feet slowly to his door, trying to ignore the peeling walls and dangling light fixture that hung like a piece of limp spaghetti over the hall. Plugging the key into the doorknob and flipping the deadbolt, he entered his apartment.

He glanced around the place, as he did everyday when he returned, and found himself appalled at how little taste he had. A brownish couch sat lonely on the far wall, a small coffee table awkwardly thrown in front of it. A tall lamp stood behind it, and across the room sat his old TV, a "gift" from his grandpa when he'd moved out. He rolled his eyes at the memory and shut the door, blocking the world from his drab apartment. The kitchen sat situated to the right of the living room, the countertops crowded with junk mail and bills that needed to be paid. He tossed his keys on the equally crowded table and opened the fridge, peering inside, hoping for a miracle.

No such luck.

Sighing, he pulled out cold pasta that had been his supper three nights in a row and tossed the whole container into the microwave, hitting a random button and going to the sink. He washed his hands and dried them on his worn jeans, turning back to the microwave to get his dinner.

Making his way back into the living room, he flopped down on the couch and sighed.

"Welcome home, Lovino. How was your day, Lovino? Was work tough? Are you tired? I missed you." He glanced around, eyes wandering over the empty room, and he considered answering himself, but he knew that was generally frowned upon in society, so he resolved to eat his pasta in silence.

When he did finally flip on his TV, he browsed channels in search of something, anything worth actually watching. He settled on the news.

The first story was about a house fire in Bronx, the next a bank robbery. A missing person, a missing pet, three car accidents, two arrests. And finally the unresolved murder from three blocks down. Lovino sighed, turning off the TV.

"That was depressing," he mumbled aloud, trailing his fingers through his brown, tousled locks. Scowling at nothing in particular, he felt that familiar shadow of anger and bitterness creeping over him. He stood and paced around his living room, down the hall, and through his bedroom, picking up scattered clothes and throwing them into his closet. He continued to pointlessly clean his small living space in an attempt to block out the pain of loneliness.

Finally, he felt exhaustion take over and he stood under the hot, pelting stream of water in his shower to loosen his muscles. When he felt he was clean enough, he crawled into bed after locking, double locking, and triple locking his front door. He stared at the darkness, willing his mind to shut off, and finally drifted off to sleep.

"Lovino! You look like you're having a wonderful time, _mon cher_!"

Lovino looked for something, _anything_, to get away from the Frenchman walking towards him. He began to furiously scrub the bar, concentrating on every little speck of possible dirt that existed on the glossy surface.

Francis blinked at the little Italian a few times. "Darling, I do believe that those are a part of the surface," he chuckled after a moment.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "What do you want, Francis?" he grumbled.

"So bitter!" Francis cooed and leaned across the bar to nudge Lovino's chin up with his index finger. "I wanted to invite you to my humble abode for a party this Saturday."

Lovino gulped at the Frenchman's touch. _Oh_, how Francis played with his heart. "I'm working."

Francis frowned. "Call off sick."

"I'm not going to lie!"

"You don't have to tell them what's wrong."

Lovino turned away to polish shot glasses. "I'm busy, Francis. And I'm not coming to your party." He heard the Frenchman chuckle and felt the back of his neck heat up without even seeing the man's hungry gaze.

"Come on, Lovino. You haven't had any fun in so long, not since your—"

Lovino whirled around and glared at the blonde. "Don't. Even. Go. There," he growled menacingly.

Francis took a step back but continued to smile pleasantly. "_Désolé._ But won't you please come? I want you to meet someone. He hasn't been in town in a long time and Gilbert and I are throwing the party for him."

Lovino scoffed and narrowed his eyes at the mention of the Prussian. "Anything involving you and Gilbert makes me want to run in the other direction. Like I said, I'm working." He turned away and continued to polish the glasses, willing the clock to slow down so he wouldn't have to spend another night alone.

"Very well, _mon cher._" He heard Francis walk away, imagining the blonde sauntering the way he always did, and turned when he was sure he was gone. He stood alone behind the bar for the rest of his shift.

* * *

"What do you mean I—" Lovino stood in the kitchen, staring at the wall, listening to his manager on the other end of the phone. "Oh, okay… Yeah, thanks, I will… Bye."

He returned the phone to its cradle and leaned against the wall. _If Francis finds out I was called off and didn't show up at his party he'll never leave me alone…_

He didn't know when the party actually started, but he figured eight o'clock was a safe guesstimate. Sure enough, he stepped out of the taxi onto the wealthy sidewalks of Manhattan to be bombarded with a loud thumping coming from a certain mansion. Francis' party was already well underway. He stepped up to the door and knocked, and when no answer came, he stepped inside.

Immediately he felt overwhelmed. Lovino wasn't a people person, and there were more than enough people here just in the hallway. The entire house seemed to bounce with the movement of bodies, and Lovino wove his way around them towards the open living room. There he found Francis mingling with three young girls, looking much too young to be holding red SOLO cups full of God knows what, and giggling at every word Francis uttered. When the Frenchman saw Lovino lingering in the corner awkwardly, he sauntered over, visibly tipsy, and slapped Lovino on the shoulder.

"_Lovino!"_ Francis yelled much too loudly in Lovino's ear, making him cringe. "I thought you were working, _mon cher!"_

"I got called off…"

"And you decided to visit _me!_" Francis laughed loudly and clapped Lovino's shoulder again, making the boy wince.

"Yeah, sure."

"Come, come darling! Have a drink! Mingle!" Francis steered him towards the long table of food and drinks, accompanied by at least twenty servants, and shoved him along, abandoning him around the desserts. Lovino stared at the food before him and the drink in his hand, and placing them gingerly on the table, took an unopened bottle of water from the cooler at the end of the table, and wandered off towards to side rooms where he hoped there would be some less drunk people.

He passed through quite a few rooms where the people slung across the furniture looked like they wouldn't be leaving until morning. He guessed that the party had actually started a lot earlier than he'd shown up. He wandered through a few rooms that contained explicit activity, one of which he was asked if he wanted to join.

_I should just go home…_ He turned to find Francis to tell him goodbye and ran right into Gilbert.

"Hey!" The Prussian screamed in Lovino's face. "Francis said you were here!" He laughed loudly and drug Lovino towards another room. Lovino groaned loudly, struggling to shrug the older man's hand off of his shoulder.

"Get that scowl off your face!" Gilbert commanded, tossing the Italian into the side room. Lovino stumbled, then, catching his balance, turned to throw a string of obscenities at the albino Prussian. However, Gilbert walked past Lovino and flopped onto a giant, red, plush couch and picked up a beer.

"Sit!" he barked, and Lovino glared at him.

"I don't take orders, Gilbert! Damn bastard, dragging me all over the place! Who the hell do you think you are? You and Francis! Are you even list—"

"He isn't, in case you're wondering."

Lovino looked to his left, where the smooth, accented voice came from, and found a pair of dark emerald eyes gazing at him from a deep black lounge chair, sipping on a beer. His brown hair fell in soft curls around his tanned face, his lips curved into an amused grin. His feet were propped up on a coffee table, and his button down shirt was slightly open at the top, exposing the beginnings of a perfectly tan, sculpted chest. Lovino swallowed a gulp and blinked at him a few times. The stranger stood and extended a hand to the Italian.

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo," he said smoothly. Lovino looked down at his offered hand and pulled his away slightly. Antonio's hand fell to his side, but his grin remained. "You must be Lovino. Francis told me about you. I wasn't expecting you to show up."

"I got called off…" Lovino mumbled, shrugging. "Guess you're the guy that's never around."

"Work," Antonio confirmed, taking his place back in the chair. He watched Lovino, always grinning.

"Right," Lovino replied. He shot Gilbert, who was now passed out on the couch, a glare and narrowed his eyes. "Bastard," he spat.

"Ah, they're always drunk. Won't you sit down?" Antonio nodded to the chair across from him.

"No," Lovino growled. He shot Antonio a scrutinizing glare and shifted awkwardly. "Stop staring at me."

"But you're pretty."

Lovino's heart sputtered and he narrowed his eyes. Glaring openly at the tan man, he turned and stomped out of the room. _They're all crazy!_

He had made it to the front lawn and was starting off down the sidewalk when Antonio appeared in the doorway.

"Lovino! I was kidding! Lighten up!" he called.

Lovino shot a glare over his shoulder and then turned away with a "hmph."

Antonio ran up beside him and stepped in front of him. "Where do you live?"

Lovino stepped around him. "Like I'll tell you that, you weirdo."

Antonio kept pace with the Italian and grinned. "I just want to take you home."

"No!"

"Is it far?"

"I live in the Bronx!"

Antonio faltered and stared, wide-eyed. "You can't walk through the Bronx in the middle of the night. Let me take you home."

Lovino glared. "No! You're a freak! And anyway, you've been drinking."

Antonio rolled his eyes. "Then stay at Francis' until morning."

"I'd rather face Bronx streets at night."

"Can I call you a taxi?"

"I'm capable of doing it myself!"

"Did you call one already?"

Lovino sighed in frustration and shoved Antonio away. "Leave me alone! Freak!"

Antonio grinned and trotted after the dark haired Italian. "Lovino—" he grabbed his arm and pulled him around to face him. Lovino's eyes flashed angrily. "Listen to me, I was kidding. Just let me drive you home. It's not safe."

Lovino stared at him for a few moments, then wrenched his arm out of Antonio's grasp. "Just give me your phone, I'll call a damn cab. Don't touch me."

Antonio watched Lovino scowl out the window as the taxi pulled away from the curb, the little Italian avoiding eye contact at all costs. He grinned to himself and turned to reenter the thumping home.

Lovino glared at the houses he passed as the taxi made its way back to his little street. He tipped the driver and stomped into his apartment, dead bolting the door and throwing himself into bed, fully dressed, and fully embarrassed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. **

* * *

Lovino leaned back against the wall, tipping his head towards the dim lights illuminating the bar. He wanted to go back to bed; back to forgetting, unless he dreamed, but he usually didn't. He jumped when he heard the door in the back slam shut, followed by heavy footed stomps coming around the corner.

"Vargas! Get me a scotch," demanded the emerald eyed man that slumped into the bar stool.

Lovino turned to prepare the alcohol, glancing over his shoulder at his boss, Arthur Kirkland. "Rough morning, sir?"

"What makes you ask that?" Arthur's scowl diminished for a fleeting moment, replaced by a quizzical look at his best bartender.

"It's not even noon, sir." Lovino placed the scotch in front of the blonde Englishman and stepped back to polish more glasses.

Arthur gulped the alcohol down and shook his head. "Don't ever go into business, Vargas. It'll kill you."

"Never plan to, sir."

Arthur rested his chin in his hand and grumbled. "Have you ever been in a relationship, Vargas?"

"No." Lovino paused in his polishing to narrow his eyes slightly at the strange question. "Why?"

"Don't ever get in one of them, either."

Lovino blinked a few times, and then let a small grin play at his lips. "Of course, sir. More scotch?"

Arthur waved his hand at the bottle and shook his head. "I can't drink anymore. If an obnoxious blonde comes in here looking for me, tell him I've gone to an important business meeting and I won't be around today." Arthur stood, turning to leave, then turned back and slapped a twenty dollar bill down on the bar. "Tip," he explained at Lovino's confused look, smiling. "A little something extra for my best employee."

Lovino grinned and slipped the bill into his pocket. He thanked Arthur as he exited the building, leaving Lovino alone at the bar. He watched some of the old men that spent almost every day of their lives in the bar and tried to tune out the slow music that droned on daily. Despite the routine of the bar, Lovino was comfortable. This job paid well; Arthur was quite generous with his riches. Also, the bar was, ironically, one of the safest places Lovino could be. Arthur did not tolerate obnoxious drunkards, and the bouncer that guarded the door when night fell hustled anyone out that posed a possible threat. Three times in Lovino's year and a half of working there a person had been thrown out, literally, and once the authorities had been called. The way Arthur ran the place generally scared off anyone who wanted to cause trouble, offering Lovino a safe haven away from his bland apartment.

Generally, though, Lovino's shift ended before the rush of young people showed up (another generosity from Arthur). Every once in a while, though, he still worked late, in which case Arthur usually gave Lovino a ride home. The thirty-four year old London native treated Lovino like a younger brother, confiding in him about his relationship problems and how absolutely, bitterly alone he felt. Lovino spent countless evenings at the bar listening to his boss sob over a certain "obnoxious blonde" man that seemingly held his heart but trampled all over it at the same time. The next day, Arthur would pretend like their conversations had never happened; that he never felt heartbreak over his lover. And Lovino was perfectly content with that. Arthur made him feel like he was important to the business, and to Arthur's personal life. Lovino could pretend as much as Arthur wanted him to.

When Lovino's shift ended, he began his ten minute walk home. Luckily, it wasn't quite dark yet, and with taking the main roads, Lovino was generally safe. Also, he carried nothing of value on him other than his house keys and no more than forty dollars of any tips he'd made. He kept a lockbox in his locker at work that was only ever emptied of the money inside when Arthur gave him rides home. He was fully prepared to give up all that he carried on him if he were ever mugged, even the keys to his apartment and its location. There was nothing of value there except for approximately five hundred dollars at any given time. The rest went straight to his bank account. Everything else was kept at his grandfather's.

Lovino entered his apartment and saw the light on his answering machine blinking. He pressed the button to listen as he wandered through his fridge for dinner.

_Lovino, it's Grandpa. Please call me back. I'm worried about you... I haven't heard from you in almost a week now. Call me back, please… I love you._

_ Lovino, it's Grandpa again. I guess you're working. I'll try your cell phone. Okay, I love you._

_ Lovino, please answer my phone calls. Are you hurt? Do you need me to come up there and get you? I love you… _

Lovino sighed and glanced at the clock. _7:30_. He knew he needed to call his grandpa back; he'd been avoiding returning his calls for a while and now his grandpa had called him four times in one afternoon. Picking up the receiver, he dialed his grandpa's number and waited.

"Hello?"

"Grandpa."

There was a short pause, and then a muffled sob. "Lovi! Lovi, are you ok? Why haven't you returned my calls?" Lovino's heart broke at the fear and sadness in his grandfather's voice.

"I'm sorry Grandpa… I've been working a lot lately and I've just been really tired. I didn't mean to worry you. I'm not hurt, I promise."

His grandpa, Roma, sighed in relief and took a deep breath. "Good, it's okay Lovi. I'm glad you're safe."

"How have you been, Grandpa?"

"Fine. Lonely. I miss you, Lovi…"

Lovino swallowed the hard lump forming in his throat. "I miss you too, Grandpa."

"Then come home. That's no place for you." Roma sounded desperate.

Lovino sighed. This was why he avoided returning the phone calls. "That's no place for me, either, Grandpa. I can't come back. It hurts too much…"

Roma sighed. "I know… Lovi, you have to get help. You need to heal. I know how badly it hurts and –"

"No, Grandpa." Lovino's tone was firm, but he spoke as gently as he could. "I need to work through this on my own. Here, I'm away from the memories."

"How, Lovino?"

"It's hard enough looking at myself in the mirror, Grandpa. I can't go back there."

"It's not your fault, Lovi…"

"Grandpa, I have to go."

"Please, Lovi –"

"Grandpa."

A pause. "… Okay."

"I love you, Grandpa. I'll call more often, I promise. Goodbye."

Roma sighed again. "You promise that every time, Lovino. I love you, too. Goodbye."

The conversation was ended with a _click_ and Lovino stood facing the wall, the receiver still pressed to his ear. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he placed it back in its cradle and he went to bed without dinner.

* * *

"Hi'ya! Is Arthur around?"

Lovino almost dropped the shot glass he was polishing when an obnoxious voice shattered the wall around his thoughts and shook his whole world. He looked up to see a bright blue eyed police officer, dressed in his uniform, with unruly blonde hair that resembled a bird's nest. A wide smile was plastered on his face as he leaned on the bar. Lovino blinked a few times, taking in the tall man.

"Mr. Kirkland isn't here today. He's on a business call," Lovino replied. He realized that this must be Alfred F. Jones, rookie police officer, and Arthur's lover. He knew that Arthur had told him to use that excuse the previous day, but today it was actually true.

Alfred's smile faltered slightly. "Oh." He glanced around the bar, sliding onto a bar stool. "Can I get a beer?"

Lovino stared at him for a few seconds before replying, "Aren't you on duty?"

Alfred laughed suddenly, very obnoxiously, and propped his feet on the bar. "Nope. Just got off of it. Beer, please?"

Lovino rolled his eyes as he handed the rookie a beer. He shooed his feet off of the bar and began to polish where they had been.

Alfred watched with mild interest before examining the place more thoroughly. "You work here full time?"

"Yes." Lovino really didn't want to have a conversation with this cop.

"How do ya know Arthur?"

Lovino swallowed, shrugging. "We met a while back and he offered me a job here."

"Hmm." Alfred took a sip of his beer and watched Lovino. He smiled finally, shaking a finger at the Italian. "You know, I feel like I recognize you from somewhere. You ever been on the news?"

Lovino froze, blinking at the police officer. "Uh.. No, no I haven't." He fixed his gaze on the bottles of alcohol that needed to be restocked and made a mental note to check inventory, returning to polishing the glasses.

"I swear I've seen you before." Alfred tapped the lip of the beer bottle to his lips and examined Lovino's face closely. Lovino felt sweat begin to form on the back of his neck and his cheeks became flushed under the gaze of the young man. He turned away to get another glass.

"I've never been on the news. I've only lived in the Bronx for about a year and a half now," he said, hoping that the blonde would drop the subject.

"Where did you live before?"

"Brooklyn."

Alfred _hmmed_ and continued to stare at Lovino. "I'm sure I've seen you before," he mumbled, squinting his eyes behind his glasses.

Lovino's heart started beating a little faster; he knew exactly what the officer was talking about. But it hadn't been him…

Suddenly Lovino's grip slipped and the shot glass in his hand crashed to the floor and shattered into pieces. He groaned and hurried to get a broom and dustpan. While he was bent over sweeping up the mess, he heard Alfred on the other side of the counter talking. He paused to hear a muffled voice, and realized that Alfred was on the phone.

"Yeah, I'm here now," he said. A few moments passed before he responded again, "No, I was looking for you. But your bartender has kept me good company." He laughed loudly again. Lovino realized that he must be talking to Arthur.

When he stood, he glanced at the officer and gestured to his empty beer bottle. At Alfred's nod, he replaced it with a fresh one and went about finishing cleaning up the mess he'd made.

"Yep, he broke one of your shot glasses too. Looks like you've got yourself a butterfingers over here Arty." Alfred winked at Lovino, and Lovino felt his face drain of color. Sure, he'd fully intended to tell his boss about his mishap, but he hadn't wanted him to find out through this obnoxious boy!

Lovino glared at Alfred and turned away, sure he would face some rebuking from Arthur later. _No wonder Arthur gets drunk over this kid…_ he thought. Suddenly the back door flew open and Arthur himself stormed in. Lovino stepped back against the wall and gripped his cloth to his chest, almost positive from the look on Arthur's face that he was about the get fired. However, Arthur stopped in front of the blue eyed police officer and placed his hands on his hips, his thick eyebrows bunched together and his right eye twitching in aggravation.

"Do _NOT _call me 'Arty,' Jones! You hear me, you insolent brat? I'm Arthur Kirkland to you!" Arthur boomed.

Alfred grinned playfully and leaned back with half lidded eyes. "Does that apply in the bedroom, too, _Arthur Kirkland_?"

Arthur turned seven shades of red and snapped his gaze over to Lovino. "Vargas, how long has he been in here?"

Lovino shrugged, blinking a few times and steadying his breath.

Arthur glared back at Alfred. "In my office, back there, NOW." He jutted a finger towards the back of the building behind the bar.

Alfred stood, still grinning. "Yes sir." He winked and saluted, tossing Lovino a five dollar tip as he sauntered past.

Arthur and Lovino met each others' eyes for a moment, and Lovino held out the bill. "For your shot glass, sir," he mumbled, feeling his cheeks grow warmer from his blush. He didn't want to think about what was about to happen in his boss' office.

Arthur shook his head at the bill and started towards his office. "Vargas."

Lovino looked over at him. "Yes, sir?"

"I'm not here, in case anyone asks." Arthur coughed, disappearing to the back of the building, his face three shades of red and two shades of pink.

Lovino shifted uncomfortably and coughed, willing the explicit thoughts running through his mind to change subjects.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry about the late update. Life happens, writer's block sets in, you know. Plus I got a nice spell of the flu and bronchitis, so I've missed a lot of school and I'm busy playing catch up. AND my AP English exam is in 9 days, so I'm busy studying for that too. I'll try to keep updates regular. **

**Side Note: Thank you SO much to every person who is actually reading this! It means a lot to me!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.**

* * *

Antonio stared at the solid black door that stood in front of him. He glanced at Francis, who grinned and pushed it open, sauntering inside. He followed eagerly, hoping for some excitement.

Lovino rushed around the bar, pouring drink after drink to barely of-age kids that wanted to party on a late Friday night. He took a moment to breathe, finally satisfying their thirsts, and was suddenly greeted by a hard clap on the back and a sloppy, wet kiss slobbered across his cheek.

"Aagh!" Lovino jumped away, sputtering and flailing, flattening himself against the safety of his bar. Francis grinned toothily, winking at the flustered Italian.

"_Bonjour_ Lovi~no," he purred, dragging out the "ee" sound in Lovino's name.

Lovino grimaced, rubbing the slobber off of his cheek with his towel and turning to grab more drinks for customers. He hated working nights as it was, and especially if Francis showed up.

"Lovino, darling, can't you get my friend here and I a few drinks?" Francis asked smoothly, sliding onto an empty barstool. Antonio followed, intrigued by the vibrating crowd of bodies that mashed together and by the flushing bartender before him. He rested his chin on his hand, propped up by his elbow, and grinned goofily at Lovino.

Lovino noticed the Spaniard finally, and his face burned like the sun. He felt himself turn fifty shades of red and turned away, lips puckered in annoyance. "What'd'ya want?" he muttered.

Francis and Antonio ordered and were served promptly, and then Lovino busied himself with cleaning up the spilled booze that lay across the bar, dulling its normal shine. He frowned. None of the other bartenders polished the smooth counter until it glistened like he did. With others, it was simply lackluster. He couldn't quite understand why the other bartenders were so careless, but then again he completely understood. None of them absolutely _needed_ this job; they were simply out to make a few bucks. Lovino felt he owed Arthur a great debt for providing him with a decent job and protection despite his past faults. Lovino would have cleaned the place top to bottom for no pay whatsoever if Arthur would allow it.

He focused on returning the sparkle to the countertop, one corner of his lip pulled back by his teeth in concentration. Suddenly, Antonio was in front of him, grinning like a fool.

"Do you need more to drink?" Lovino mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

Antonio shook his head, holding up his barely touched drink. "No, no. Just watching."

Lovino flushed again and turned away, reprimanding himself for acting so silly in front of the Spaniard. He hated feeling vulnerable, and that's exactly how he felt at the moment. He rearranged some of the bottles of booze that he used in his sweet concoctions, keeping them in an orderly, practical fashion (one that was always out of sorts due to the other bartenders' carelessness).

"Lovi, dear, how have you been?" Francis purred again, leaning forward on the bar, eyes following the thin Italian as he moved with expertise in the tight space.

Lovino rolled his eyes, topping off a young kid that had shoved his beer in Lovino's face. "I'm perfectly fine," he said in a sharp tone, trying hard to convey that he didn't wish to speak to the Frenchman at all.

"You remember Antonio, _oui_?" Said Frenchman gestured to his dark haired companion, who still carried a goofy grin on his lips.

Lovino nodded, glancing again at the Spaniard out of the corners of his eyes. He remembered their first meeting, and how explosive he had acted. He felt slightly embarrassed, appalled that he had acted so rashly and afraid of what Antonio must think of him after such an unpleasant first impression. Then he shook his head slightly, pushing those thoughts away. It didn't matter what the man thought of him, and Lovino didn't care either!

"I'm very busy, Francis. I don't have time to chat," Lovino said curtly, tossing his hair out of his eyes with a quick flick of his head and turning away from the companions.

Francis grinned and looked at Antonio, who met his gaze and grinned back widely. Lovino caught the exchange and felt his blood boil. _They're mocking me, damn it!_ he screamed in his mind. Lovino huffed and made his way down the bar, deciding that he would deprive the two from refills as long as he possibly could as punishment.

The night passed slowly and loudly. Lovino felt a small throb beginning to form behind his eyes, thumping in time with the beat of whatever obscene song happened to be playing. He sighed – oh how he missed his quiet old men that played cards in the corner during the day and only bothered him for peanuts. Arthur had apologized profusely for scheduling Lovino for a late night; he knew how it bothered him to work so late. Some things, however, just couldn't be helped, and Lovino understood that. A coworker's wife had gone into labor, and he had had to call off. As much as Lovino hated working late, he couldn't be upset with the man. He had a family that he loved very much, something that Lovino admired.

He glanced down the bar at his least favorite pair of the evening, scowling at the blonde Frenchman and the curly-haired Spaniard. Then he noticed that the pair had become a trio, and he recognized the rookie officer from earlier that week. He made his way towards his new customer, dreading being near Francis.

"Alfred, you're back. What can I get you tonight?" Lovino asked as politely as he could without letting any blush creep up to his cheeks from memories of the events of their first meeting.

Alfred smiled widely, leaning on the bar. "Hiya! I'll take a beer, thanks!"

Lovino grimaced under his fake grin; the boy's loud persona carried through in his voice and irritated Lovino's already pounding headache. He served the young officer and gave his attention to collecting tips and stuffing them in his apron.

"Lovino?"

Glancing up at the soft voice, he came face to face with Antonio, who proceeded to offer his drink. Lovino blinked in confusion and just stared at the empty cup.

"Can I get some more, please?" Antonio smiled pleasantly, his voice gentle and sweet, making Lovino shiver.

"Y-yeah. Yeah." Lovino snatched the cup and refilled it, handing it back to the Spaniard, who tipped him and took his place next to Francis. Lovino stared at the bill in his hand, baffled at the gesture. He shook his confusion away and swallowed hard, rolling his shoulders in an attempt to reorganize his thoughts. He didn't understand why the dark haired man made his face hot, or why he couldn't think straight around him. He hated these feelings, especially for someone that he found to be a bit of a creep. Shaking his head, he willed the next four hours to go quickly.

* * *

The door to the bar swung open, banging against the wall loudly, announcing the entrance of its newest visitor. Lovino's eyes snapped up, falling on the tall man that seemed to stalk into the building and make his way to the bar. He donned a perfectly pressed black suit, shiny black shoes, and a diamond studded pin in the pocket. Needless to say, he looked much too fancy to be in this bar in the Bronx on a Friday night. Lovino eyed him cautiously, feeling a pang of familiarity in his gut.

"Can I get you a drink?" Lovino asked, avoiding eye contact.

"Vodka, strongest you have," came the reply in a thick Russian accent.

Lovino saw Antonio tense, glaring over at the visitor. As he provided the Russian with his drink, Lovino watched the men make eye contact, and the Russian grinned like a cat.

"Antonio, what a pleasure to see you back in the city, my dear friend," the Russian cooed, almost sneering.

Antonio glared at the man coldly, making Lovino shiver from the loss of warmth in his bright green eyes. "Ivan, what are you doing here?"

The Russian, Ivan, turned towards the Spaniard. "I'm here for a quick drink, that's all."

Antonio rolled his eyes. "In a bar in the Bronx? Yeah right. What are you up to?"

Ivan scoffed. "Like I would tell you anything, you little rat."

Antonio went to stand, but Francis shoved him down, holding him on the barstool. "Lovino, dear, can we get our check?" Francis asked quickly.

Lovino nodded, handing him the slip of paper with their total on it, trying his best to avoid any involvement in the current standoff. Ivan eyed Lovino as he moved, making Lovino squirm a little, watching the minutes tick away on the clock.

"Lovino, eh?" Ivan mumbled. "What's your last name, boy?"

Lovino gulped, wringing his hands nervously.

"Go on, you can talk," Ivan urged, leaning towards Lovino over the bar.

Lovino looked in all directions, looking for an out. He knew now where he'd seen this man before, and it made him want to run.

"He doesn't have to tell you a damn thing."

All attention shifted towards the voice that sounded from behind the wall of the bar. Arthur emerged from his office and glared at the Russian that occupied his bar.

"I told you to stay out, Braginski," he growled, placing a hand on his hip. "So get out of my bar."

"Arthur, Arthur, why so cold? I'm just giving you business." Ivan folded his hands together, eyeing Arthur with a glint in his pale eyes.

Lovino's boss stomped forward, pressing himself against the bar and leaning toward the Russian. The English man was a good many inches shorter than his opponent, but Lovino knew that Arthur had a certain fire about him.

"I said," Arthur growled, enunciating every word carefully and slowly, "_get out._"

Ivan stood abruptly, causing Arthur to fall back slightly, and he slapped a dollar bill on the bar. "Next time, _Lovino_."

Lovino shivered as the Russian left, Arthur glaring after him, mumbling about there not being a next time. Then he glanced at his employee, who was visibly shaking, and he turned to the rest of the visitors of the bar.

"Out," Arthur declared. "I'm closing the bar early, it is time to leave. Everything that you have yet to pay for is on the house, so kindly get out." His ushering out of the guests was polite and rude at the same time. He turned back to the bar to see Francis, Antonio, and Alfred still sitting there. "That means you too, frog. And your friends."

Francis rolled his eyes at Arthur. "Arthur, dear, don't be so rude!"

"I said out."

Alfred stood. "Can I just go back to your office?" he asked a little too innocently.

Arthur glared at the three of them. "Don't make me throw you out of this bar, damn it. Get out right now."

The three sulked out quietly, but not before Antonio handed Lovino another tip. Arthur locked the door behind them after promising to call Alfred, and turned back to his employee, who still stood shivering.

"Gather your things, Lovino. I am taking you home." Arthur went back to his office, returning with keys to his Mercedes and his coat. Lovino stood behind the bar with his coat on, hugging himself.

Once inside the car, Arthur circled around the building and headed north, away from Lovino's apartment complex.

"I live that way, Arthur…" Lovino mumbled, pointing behind them.

"I know, we're taking the long way. No one can follow us, and we can talk."

Lovino's stared at his boss quizzically.

"Talk, Lovino. How do you know Ivan?"

Lovino gulped, taking a deep breath. "He was there, at the courthouse the day you showed up in the courtroom… He was in the back, and I had seen him around our house a few times…"

"Did he ever see you take the stand?"

"No."

Arthur sighed heavily and turned down an alley. "Ivan is bad news, Lovino. Don't tell him your name, do you understand me?"

Lovino blinked, confused. "Why? What does it matter?"

"It matters, Lovino. Just trust me on this, okay? Like you trusted me in the courtroom, trust me now."

Lovino twisted to face Arthur better. "What do you know? Does he have something to do with –"

"Yes, Lovino. He has everything to do with that."

Eyes wide, Lovino shook his head. "I don't understand –"

Arthur slammed on the brakes in front of the apartment building. "That's all you need to know for now, Lovino. Anything more, and you'll be in danger. As long as Ivan doesn't know who you are, you'll be fine. Get upstairs, lock your door, and call me so I know that your ass is safe in that apartment, got it?"

Lovino nodded, exiting the car and doing as his boss told him. He stood in the kitchen of his empty apartment, still shaking from the scrutiny of Ivan's gaze. He fished around in his pockets for the money he'd brought home and pulled out a slip of paper. Glancing at it, he saw numbers scribbled across it in elegant handwriting, along with Antonio's signature. Grimacing, he threw the paper on his counter and went to bed, willing away the nightmares that were sure to come.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I know this chapter is SUPER short, but I want it to be that way because of how the story's development is unfolding. This tidbit stands better on its own. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.**

* * *

_Don't ever leave me, okay?_

_ Okay._

_ You promise?_

_ Cross my heart._

_ I love you, Lovi. _

_ I love you too, Feli. Go to sleep now. _

_ Okay. _

Lovino awoke with a gasp. "Don't!"

He stared into the darkness for a little while, hearing his heartbeat thundering in his ears. As he tried to calm his breathing, he felt hot, burning tears trail their way down his cheeks and tasted their saltiness on his lips. He reached in the darkness for the little table next to his bed, feeling around for his small cell phone. He found it, flipping it open and hitting the number 2 on it, pressing the phone to his ear desperately.

After a few rings, he heard a click and a cough on the other end.

"H-hello..?" came a deep, groggy, sleep-thick voice.

"Grandpa…" Lovino's voice cracked slightly, betraying his tears.

"Lovino!" Lovino heard his grandpa sit up quickly and the clicking of a lamp. "Lovi, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I dreamt about Feliciano again…"

The line was quiet for a long time, making Lovino nervous.

"Gr-Grandpa?..."

"I'm here Lovi.. I'm sorry." Roma cleared his throat and took a shaky breath. "I'm sorry you dreamt about him again, _caro_."

"Don't apologize… I just feel like I'm breaking apart…"

Lovino heard his grandpa bite back a small sob and more tears rolled down his cheeks.

"Lovi, do you want me to come there and stay with you? So you aren't alone?"

"No, I think I'll be ok, Grandpa. I'm sorry I called you so late…"

"No, no, Lovi. You call whenever you need me, anytime, day or night, understand? I'll always be here."

Lovino smiled sadly and nodded even though his grandpa couldn't see that. "Okay, Grandpa. Thank you. Goodnight, I love you."

After he ended his call with Roma, Lovino laid in bed, staring at the ceiling for the better part of an hour before he was able to drift back into a light doze that took him into the cold December morning.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.**

* * *

Antonio ran his hand through his messy brown tresses, rolling his shoulders slightly and taking a deep breath. He scanned the supermarket, glancing back and forth across the crowded aisles, trying his hardest to look as inconspicuous as possible.

That was slightly hard to do, as he wasn't dressed for the part.

His fresh new jeans, perfectly creased button down silk shirt, and his eighty dollar watch stuck out more than a hitchhiker's thumb on the roadside. In the middle of the Bronx, looking rich wasn't a good idea, even though he wasn't rich.

Antonio lived a modest lifestyle as an FBI agent that specialized in the hardest undercover cases. He made his livelihood from infiltrating black market drug deals and stopping them in their tracks, uncovering criminal smuggling jobs out of the country, and recently tracking the movements of some of the most dangerous mafia leaders in the world. His job was a stressful one – boasting as one of the highest psychologically stressful jobs – but he managed it well. He enjoyed the thrill of the constantly looming danger, and he reveled in literally catching the "bad guys."

However, he understood the risks that he faced every day. He also understood the risk of walking around in the Bronx looking like a wealthy Manhattan-er. But he was determined to find some signs of Ivan – anything that would link the Russian to the mafia in New York indefinitely. He also wanted to find some tomatoes.

Casually strolling off toward the rows of tomatoes he held in his sight, he neglected to watch his other surroundings, and consequently, ran into someone else's cart.

"Oh, sorry! Sorry!" Antonio waved his hands around frantically, scrambling to move out of the way of the customer he'd just rudely collided with.

However, he was met by a squeak of surprise and the individual turning to hurry away quickly. He looked more closely at the retreating boy, and with a whirl of delight, recognized him.

"Lovino!" Antonio hurried to catch up to the Italian, striding up alongside him and slipping his hands into his deep pockets and grinning.

Lovino sighed and slowed to a stop, rubbing his thumbs on his temples. "Hi, Antonio," he mumbled halfheartedly.

Antonio's grin brightened despite the lack of enthusiasm in Lovino's voice.

"How are you, Lovi?"

"Please don't call me that."

"Sorry. Lovino it is."

Lovino eyed the Spaniard suspiciously, looking away when the man met his gaze and smiled.

"Why are you here?" Lovino continued to push his cart, trying to pretend like the other man's presence didn't set him on edge for some unknown reason.

"Oh, just looking for some good tomatoes."

He said it so nonchalantly that Lovino had to snort in laughter and look at him. "Tomatoes? Seriously?"

Antonio chuckled. "I love tomatoes. I can eat them like apples."

Lovino smiled despite himself. "So can I."

Antonio immediately brightened tenfold. "Ah, we have something in common!"

"Don't get so excited," Lovino replied, going back to shopping for minor groceries.

Antonio followed Lovino around the store for the better part of the hour, holding light, pointless conversation with him as he shopped. After Lovino had checked out and Antonio had found satisfactory tomatoes, the two exited the supermarket. Expecting to go separate ways from there, Lovino quietly said goodbye and headed toward his apartment.

However, much to his dismay, Antonio was right on his heels.

"Let me help you bring your groceries home, Lovino," Antonio said, reaching for a bag.

Lovino jerked his hand away, and Antonio saw the familiar look of rebellion and disgust on the boy's face. He couldn't help but grin; it was almost as if Lovino _had_ to be mean to him, though he didn't really understand why. Their first meeting had been rough, to say the least, but Antonio at least thought that Lovino would have moved on after their pleasant conversation in the store.

"I can do it on my own, Antonio. I'm not disabled," Lovino growled bitterly.

"Can I still walk with you then?"

Lovino gazed at the Spaniard. His smile was sweet and sincere, and, despite himself, Lovino really liked the way he looked with his hands tucked in his coat pockets and the way the cold winter wind ruffled his brown hair. He tried to rid his mind of those thoughts, pushing them away and putting on his "I Don't Need You" face, but he knew deep down that he enjoyed the company of this perfect stranger.

But that was exactly what he was – a stranger. And no matter how charming his smile was or how soft his eyes seemed to get when he watched Lovino, he was a stranger. And strangers could not be trusted.

Lovino eyed Antonio suspiciously, and his head told him to shoo the man away and stomp home. But his heart told him otherwise, and he really didn't want to listen at all, but history reminded him that his heart knew when things weren't right, so maybe it could also tell him when things were. He hadn't listened last time, and it had cost him greatly, so this time he was going to listen whether he liked it or not.

"Yeah, sure," he mumbled, trying not to sound utterly unenthusiastic, but not excited either.

They walked back to Lovino's apartment building in a comfortable silence, and Lovino found himself actually truly enjoying Antonio's company. When they arrived at the grungy building, Lovino shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

"Can I come in?" Antonio asked the question so innocently and with true desire in his voice to spend more time with Lovino that Lovino agreed immediately and they climbed the steps to his apartment.

"This place is quite charming," Antonio commented as they shuffled through a sea of plastic bags and Barbie dolls strewn throughout the second floor hallway.

Lovino chuckled. "This is actually the best it's looked in a few weeks. Usually the bags are full of garbage."

Antonio's eyes widened a little bit, but he hid that from Lovino, trying his best not to make him feel ashamed of the place that he called home. After all, Antonio had lived in an apartment similar to this in New Jersey, where he had grown up racing the other boys in the building up and down the stairs by day and listening to drunk men beat their pregnant wives by night. Antonio knew that the building didn't have to define the occupants, and Lovino was far from the kind of people that the environment nursed.

They arrived at Lovino's apartment door, and Antonio took some grocery bags as Lovino slid the key into the lock and then unlocked the deadbolt. Ushering Antonio in quickly, he shut the door behind them, locking, chain locking, and dead bolting it before turning back to his guest.

And suddenly he felt extremely embarrassed. Antonio spent his days sprawled out on Francis' suede leather recliners and plush couches, roaming around his three story mansion in Manhattan, and now he was standing in a rundown apartment building in the Bronx that had occasional heat, with drug dealers on at least one floor, and furthermore in Lovino's itty bitty apartment with an ugly, wrinkled brown couch, a kitchen with a counter and table full of junk mail, and a refrigerator that housed food that could probably get up and walk away.

Feeling a deep blush creeping up on his cheeks, Lovino hurried to drop his groceries and try to tidy up his apartment quickly. Antonio watched him walk briskly around his little home, looking all flustered and adorable, and he just smiled. He let the boy worry for a few minutes while he took it upon himself to put away the food that had to be refrigerated. He then went to stand in the doorway leading into the living room to watch Lovino. He still looked flustered, but he stopped when Antonio chuckled under his breath.

"What?" Lovino demanded.

Antonio strode over to Lovino, plopping down on the couch and pulling Lovino down to sit next to him. "Lovino," he laughed, "catch your breath. Your home is charming."

Lovino looked horrified and relieved at the same time. "I'm sorry it's such a mess. I've been working a lot and haven't had a chance to clean much and –"

"I get it, relax." Antonio smiled warmly and looked around. "I like small apartments anyway. They feel warm and homey. Francis' is nice, but it gets drafty in the winter."

Antonio eyed a small picture frame on the table next to the couch and picked it up gingerly. He examined it for a moment before looking up at Lovino. "This boy looks a lot like you. Is he your brother?"

Lovino swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah, his name is Feliciano."

"Feliciano," Antonio repeated. "Does he live here with you?"

"No."

"Oh." Antonio noticed Lovino's voice drop a little and he placed the picture frame back down onto the table gently, deciding to change the subject. "Do you live here by yourself?"

"Yeah, Arthur got the place for me." Lovino sighed softly. "Would you like anything to drink or...something?"

Antonio smiled at Lovino's awkwardness. "Water would be great, thank you."

Lovino rose to retrieve the water, and as he entered the kitchen his phone rang. He answered it without looking at the caller ID, and he regretted it immediately.

"Grandpa, hi!" Lovino exclaimed, surprised. He handed Antonio his drink and gave him an apologetic look, to which Antonio just smiled and shook his head. He watched the Italian pace slightly and lean against the wall as he talked with his grandfather.

"Yes Grandpa, I'm fine … No, I went to the store … I'm sorry, I didn't see that you had called … I'm sorry I worried you …" Lovino scratched behind his ear awkwardly and shrugged at Antonio.

"I worry about you Lovi," Roma said on the other end. "You're my grandson and I love you."

"I love you too, Grandpa, and I'm sorry that I scared you. You could have called my cell phone," Lovino replied.

"I always forget about that thing."

"I promise I'm okay, Grandpa. I –"

"I took care of him, sir!" Antonio suddenly shouted toward the phone. Lovino looked horrified and Roma stuttered on the other end of the phone.

"Who was that, Lovi?" he asked.

Lovino tripped over his own words as he spoke. "N-no one, Grandpa, just a friend, he –"

"He? Is he your boyfriend?"

"Wha – No! Grandpa!"

Roma chuckled. "Well, it was worth asking."

"No, Grandpa, no! He's just a friend that I met through Francis; it's no one, just a friend. He helped me bring groceries home."

"Oh, how nice. He sounds like a gentleman."

Lovino scowled. "You know, it's really stupid that you're being so nice about something that isn't even the case when you freaked out on Feli and –"

"Lovino, please don't," Roma pleaded quietly.

Lovino suddenly felt his blood boil. "No, _you_ don't." He hung up the phone and slammed it down onto the kitchen table, trying to bite back tears.

Antonio shifted slightly, feeling awkward. "I'm sorry if I –"

"It's not you," Lovino mumbled. "Don't worry about it."

Antonio felt a strange tugging in his chest when he saw Lovino wipe away tears with the back of his hand and he took a few steps closer to Lovino.

"I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry Lovino."

Lovino looked at him over his shoulder and shook his head. "It had nothing to do with you."

Antonio sighed and looked around the little apartment. "Can I make you dinner, then? So I can feel better about this?"

Lovino again regarded Antonio with slight suspicion, but he nodded in the end. Antonio smiled and went to the fridge.

* * *

"She seriously ditched you, right there, in the middle of the dance floor?" Antonio gaped overdramatically at Lovino across the dining room table, listening intently to Lovino's recap of his senior prom.

"Yep, she just walked away and decided to go dance with some popular kid," Lovino replied, finger-quoting "popular."

"That's extremely rude! Did you say anything to her?"

Lovino laughed as he took another sip of his wine, holding up the glass to Antonio. "Nope. I left the dance and went to get drunk. I had a better time with that bottle than I could have ever had with her."

Antonio laughed and lifted his glass in return, clinking his against Lovino's. "I'll toast to that."

"So, what about yourself? What was your high school life like?" Lovino picked at his toasted bread and looked up at Antonio.

"Well," Antonio began, "freshman year was hell, but I think that's a given. Sophomore and junior year were okay, not good or bad. Senior year was the best. I got accepted into the police academy early and left right after graduation. A few years later I was assigned to work a case with an FBI agent, and he put in a good word for me with his superiors. I got trained and bumped up in the ranks, and suddenly I was carrying an FBI badge and working for the government directly. High school seems like a thing of the past, you know? Just the bad time before everything got good again."

"Was it that bad?"

"New Jersey wasn't the best place to live, nothing like the bad areas of New York, but still not the greatest. I loved my home but I hated my environment. My parents tried their best to keep us away from anything bad, but living where we did made that almost impossible. I didn't have a bad life, or a bad high school experience. High school just opened my eyes to the real world and the evil that's really out there."

Lovino nodded slowly. "I know what you mean."

Antonio watched Lovino for a moment, staring at his downcast eyes and frowning slightly.

"Lovino, are you sad?"

Lovino looked up and blinked quickly, seemingly blinking away a veil over his eyes and a memory with it. "I don't know."

Antonio frowned at him. "How can you not know?"

Lovino grinned and shrugged. "I dunno. I just don't…know."

When he chuckled goofily Antonio realized that Lovino had had a little too much wine and was slightly tipsy. He stood and began to clear their dishes from dinner, placing them in the sink to wash them.

"Lovino, you should go to bed," Antonio suggested softly, turning the water on in the sink.

Lovino stood slowly, nodding, and walked slowly down the dim hall to his bedroom. Antonio heard the door click shut softly and he began to hum as he cleaned the dishes, setting them in the strainer to dry. He looked up when he heard Lovino clear his throat, and he saw the boy standing in the doorway leading into the kitchen, leaning against the door frame.

"Do you need anything?" Antonio asked.

Lovino shook his head. "Thank you for coming to spend time with me. I don't have any friends. Well, except Arthur, but he and I don't spend time together outside of the bar. Francis doesn't really count because he wasn't my friend, he was actually Feliciano's friend but I guess he took my under his wing or something, not that I really asked for it." Lovino fidgeted slightly, tugging on the sleeves of his shirt. "Not that I'm labeling you my friend just because we hung out for a few hours or anything, I just mean that I don't hang out with anyone, at all, so I just like that you actually _wanted_ to spend time with me. Wow, I sound like an idiot."

Antonio grinned and sat the last plate in the strainer and walked over to the couch to pick up his coat. "Lovino, I'm really glad I got to spend this time with you, too. I really enjoyed it. Maybe we can do it again sometime?"

Lovino nodded slowly and hurried over to his front door to unlock it. "Yeah, that would be cool. Do you want me to walk you out? It's getting late; you really shouldn't walk around alone."

Antonio smiled and slid into his coat. "I called Francis. He's on his way to pick me up. Thank you though, Lovino. You should go to bed and get some rest, you look tired."

Lovino nodded, looking down. He turned to say goodbye but came face to face with Antonio, who stood right behind him. Their noses were almost touching, and Lovino noticed for the first time that Antonio was maybe an inch or two shorter than him. He gulped at their close proximity and slid down the door a little bit.

"I left my phone number on your table. Call me if you need anything, okay?" Antonio grinned sweetly, seeming to not notice how close he had suddenly gotten.

Lovino nodded. "Okay," he whispered. "Goodnight."

He slid away from Antonio as the man exited his apartment, and he locked the door securely behind him. Walking back to his bedroom, he closed the door softly and crawled into his bed, lying in the darkness, replaying the last thirty seconds in his mind over and over again, trying to make the foreign feeling in his gut go away and the cloudiness in his head disperse.

**A/N: Hey everyone, sorry for the late update. Now that summer break is in session I should be able to update more often. (At least I'm hoping so.) If anyone who actually takes the time to read this (thank you, by the way) has any suggestions, feel free to review or private message me. I would love to hear some feedback from you guys.**

**Also, thank you Burlesque Romantique for your review (it really boosted my confidence), and to Skymoon18, TheBatgirl31, and Kuronari (no review is pointless!) for your encouragement and support. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.**

* * *

"Gilbert?" Antonio looked over at the albino from his spot at the bar in the Prussian's penthouse apartment.

"Hmm?" Gilbert stood in front of his refrigerator, contemplating what he wanted to eat.

"Who is Feliciano?"

Antonio watched Gilbert's shoulders tense and then he sighed quietly, shutting the doors to the fridge and turning to face his friend.

"Feliciano is Lovino's little brother," he replied.

"Francis never mentioned that he had a little brother."

"Well, that's really no surprise…" Gilbert moved to the bar, pouring himself some whisky and taking a shot.

"What do you mean?" Antonio tilted his head slightly, watching Gilbert pour another shot.

"I'm not really at liberty to say."

Antonio sighed, running his finger around the rim of his glass. "How old is he?"

"Eighteen." Gilbert choked down his shot, quickly pouring another one.

Antonio furrowed his brows slightly. "You're going to get drunk."

"That's the point."

"Why?"

Gilbert shook his head as the whisky burned down his throat. "Toni, stop asking about Feli."

Antonio sat back, slightly thrown off. "What's wrong with asking about the kid?"

Gilbert glared at his friend, looking pained and frustrated. "No one wants to talk about him, okay?"

"How did you know him?"

Rolling his eyes, Gilbert walked away from the bar to go sit on his couch. "Ludwig dated him." He flipped on his TV, turning the volume up so Antonio couldn't ask any further questions.

Antonio frowned, picking at the pile of letters scattered across the counter. One caught his eye, and he picked it up, looking at the return address.

_Manhattan Psychiatric Facilities_

The letter was open, and despite knowing it was wrong, Antonio opened it to read what was inside.

_Oh the irony, an FBI agent reading other people's mail_, Antonio thought as he scanned the letter. It mentioned the billing information for Ludwig's treatments and housing and a letter about how his mental conditions seemed to be coming along. Intrigued, Antonio looked at the address and slid the letter back into its envelope, grabbing his coat.

"See ya later, Gil," he called over his shoulder as he exited the apartment, receiving only a grunt in reply from his friend.

* * *

Antonio pulled into the parking lot of the Manhattan Psychiatric Facilities' building, sprinting inside to avoid the cold wind. He approached the woman at the front desk.

"Hi, how can I help you?" she asked politely.

"Hi, are the visiting hours still going on?"

She nodded. "Who would you like to see?"

"Ludwig Beilschmidt."

She tapped on the keyboard to her computer and clicked her mouse a few times. "Sure thing," she said cheerily. "I'll take you back."

She led him down a brightly lit hall with doors on either side, positioned so that the people on the other side of them couldn't see into the patient's room across the hall. She rounded the corner into a room that had nurses and what seemed to be low maintenance guards inside, along with twenty-some people that were all dressed in white t shirts and sweatpants with no strings in them.

"The man over in the corner, by the window," the secretary said, leaving Antonio to figure the rest out on his own. He entered the room quietly, seeing other people dressed in normal clothing talking to the patients – other visitors. He made his way over to Ludwig, pulling a chair over to sit in front of him.

"Hey, Ludwig, do you remember me?" he asked quietly.

Ludwig looked at him slowly, staring at him for a few minutes before recognition flashed across his face. "Toni," he said softly, smiling slightly.

Antonio smiled. "Yeah, I'm back in town and I wanted to come see you."

Ludwig sighed and gazed back out the window. "I don't know why you would want to see me."

"Well, I've known you since you were just a kid. I mean, we're kind of like family."

The blonde haired, blue eyed man grinned a little. "Yeah, I guess we are."

Antonio watched him for a moment, nibbling on his bottom lip slightly. "Ludwig, why are you in here? Shouldn't you be at home with Gilbert, going to college and getting that degree in business that you've always wanted?"

Ludwig shook his head, sighing again. "I can't function out there."

"Out there? You mean in the world?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Ludwig looked at him, his eyes dull and sad. "It's a horrible place out there, Toni. It's safer in here. Everyone is nice here."

Antonio frowned. "You're not planning on staying here forever, are you?"

Ludwig shrugged, looking at his hands which rested in his lap. "I've been here for this long now. They can't send me away as long as I'm still unstable…and my doctor says I'm still unstable."

"Ludwig," Antonio spoke softly, scooting a little closer to the man, "what happened to you?"

Ludwig shuddered quietly. "I can't…"

"Yes you can. Please, tell me what happened."

Antonio swallowed and watched Ludwig shake his head softly. The young man looked back out the window and clenched his hands together.

"Can you tell me about Feliciano?" Antonio spoke softly, saying Lovino's brother's name like it was a bomb triggered by speech.

Ludwig gasped and tears rolled down his cheeks. "Leave, Toni."

"Ludwig, I'm –"

"Leave!" Ludwig screamed it in Antonio's face, shoving him away violently. The guards ran over to hold him back, but he had already sat back down and went back to gazing out of the window.

Antonio held up his hands to the guards. "I'm leaving," he said. "I'm leaving."

He exited the building and sat in his car, watching snowflakes drift down lazily. He didn't understand Ludwig's reaction, and he didn't understand Gilbert's either. Why didn't anyone want to talk about this mysterious Feliciano?

* * *

Lovino stood behind the bar, polishing the top until it shined brilliantly. He loathed working so late, but he knew that Arthur just couldn't help it sometimes. He watched the last of the rowdy young adults leave the bar and set to closing shop. After he had cleaned the place as thoroughly as Arthur would allow him to do without feeling obligated to pay him more, he waited on a barstool for his boss to come from his office and take him home.

He glanced at the clock. It was a little past one in the morning and Arthur was nowhere to be found. Lovino had been sitting there for around ten minutes. Then he remembered that his English boss had hurried out of the bar a few hours ago, claiming that he had important business to attend to and that he would be back. Lovino sighed, knowing full well that Arthur probably had "business" with Alfred and wouldn't be returning.

Though it pained him a little, he couldn't be upset with his boss. Arthur wasn't obligated to take Lovino home when he worked late. It was just a kindness that he paid him, for no reason really. _Anyway,_ Lovino told himself, _I only live two blocks away. I can just walk home._

He gathered his things, leaving his tips in his locker and only putting two twenties into his wallet, and he exited the building from the back into the alley and locked it up, slipping the set of keys he had underneath the mat that lay on the ground and setting off towards his crummy apartment building.

Walking the main roads was really the safest way to go. There was still a risk in traveling alone, but he had a better chance if there were at least some threat of eye witnesses to any crime someone might be thinking about committing. He rounded the corner and went swiftly down the walk, his apartment building only one street over. Passing an alleyway, his building was in sight. He knew that it was a bad idea, but he saw no one in the short alleyway, and he figured it would be safer to get home as quickly as possible instead of taking the long way so late at night.

He was half way through the alleyway when the man came out of the shadows and leapt onto Lovino's back.

Lovino rolled forward, successfully landing on his attacker, jumping up and sprinting away. The man, however, recovered quickly and tackled Lovino to the ground, this time pinning the Italian with a knee to his groin and a knife to his throat.

"Okay, okay," Lovino choked out, "take my keys. I'll even tell you which apartment is mine. My wallet is in my left pocket. I've only got like, forty bucks on me though."

The man grinned through his ski mask. "I'm not here to mug you, boy," he growled in a voice that was obviously deeper than his own.

Lovino gulped when he felt the cold blade push closer to his skin. "I don't understand," he squeaked, "I'm giving you everything that I have on me and letting you rob my apartment. I won't even call the police, I swear."

"I don't want your money, idiot. I was instructed to get rid of you and –"

His sentence ended with a harsh bark and he jumped up, clutching the back of his head. Arthur swung a pipe at him, but the mugger jumped back and stumbled. Reaching forward, Arthur grabbed his ski mask and pulled it off, looking him right in the face. However, the mugger ran off before Arthur could grab him again. He disappeared into the night, and Arthur pulled Lovino off of the ground, pulling him into a hug.

"Don't you ever leave the bar alone at night like that again, you dumbass. If you do," he pushed Lovino away to look right into his eyes, "_I'll_ kill you. Got that?"

Lovino nodded, wide eyed, his heart beating a mile a minute. "You didn't come back so I –"

"You were an idiot. I was on my way stupid." Arthur glared at his employee and friend for a long minute, making sure the boy knew he meant business, and then his eyes softened and he sighed, dropping the pipe. "Come on," he said, "let's get down to the police station so we can give statements."

"You're going to try to catch that guy?" Lovino asked as they walked to Arthur's car, which was at the end of the alley, driver door wide open and still running. "That was smart," Lovino added sarcastically, slipping into the passenger's side.

Arthur slid into his seat, slamming the door shut. "Yes, I'm going to make sure they catch that guy. I don't want him running around, mugging people and trying to kill your dumb ass again. And shut up or I'll drop you off in the middle of this forsaken borough and leave you."

Lovino rolled his eyes at his boss, saying, "No you wouldn't." and Arthur just grinned.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.**

* * *

Arthur and Lovino sat in the police station, Arthur recounting their story to countless police officers and Lovino simply nodding in agreement. They were taken back to a room to speak to experts so Arthur could describe the mugger, allowing them to make a sketch of him and put it out to the media.

Alfred was there, quietly hovering around the pair and trying to act like he was doing serious business and reporting, but Lovino could see that the moment Alfred could manage it, he would pull Arthur off somewhere alone and dote over him to make sure he was as okay as he claimed to be.

Meanwhile, Lovino sat replying to the officers' questions as well as he could and beginning to feel irritated because it was late and he wanted to go home. He looked at the clock in the room, which read eleven o'clock, and sighed heavily. He had to work the following day and he wanted to go home and go to sleep and pretend that this night had never happened.

Reaching into his pocket, he felt for his cell phone. He flipped it open, praying silently that his grandfather hadn't called him. Luckily, he hadn't. He decided to not tell his grandfather about the events that had taken place this evening – Roma didn't need another element to use against him to try to convince him to move back to Brooklyn. He stared at his phone for a few minutes, thinking about whether or not it was the right thing to leave his grandpa out of this. He felt bad for hiding things from him, but he just didn't want to go back. He couldn't. "Home" put too much pain in his heart, and he didn't know how his family still managed to live there.

Scrolling through his contacts, he came across Antonio's number. He smiled slightly to himself, as he really didn't know why he had actually put his number in there. A strange thought came into his mind, and he pressed the call button before he had actually thought it through.

"Hello?" Antonio's voice, slurred with sleep, came through from the other end of the phone.

"Uh…h-hi, Antonio?" Lovino stumbled over his words, kicking himself for actually calling the Spaniard so late at night.

"Lovino? Lovino, is that you?" Antonio's voice suddenly seemed a lot more alert, and that made Lovino blush.

"Yeah… I'm sorry it's so late. I didn't really mean to call you, I just kind of did and I shouldn't have bothered you." Lovino rambled for a moment before forcing his mouth to shut and letting his thoughts collect themselves.

Antonio chuckled softly. "It's perfectly okay, Lovino. Are you all right?"

Lovino paused before answering suddenly. "I got mugged…or, well…almost killed. This guy came from nowhere while I was walking home from work and attacked me and he was going to cut my throat even though I was going to give him everything I had and he said he had orders to kill me or something but then Arthur saved me and tried to catch the guy but he got away and now we're at the police station and I think I called you because you're a part of the FBI and I thought maybe this is important for you or something but I also think I'm kind of scared and I don't know why but you're the only person that I think will make me feel better right now and that's really why I called you."

The words fell out of Lovino's mouth in a big rush before he could stop them, and he felt his cheeks growing increasingly red. He didn't understand why Antonio made him feel the way he did nor did he want to feel the way he did for Antonio after such a short time of knowing him, but his heart wanted comfort no matter how tough he tried to appear, and it wanted comfort from Antonio.

On the other end of the phone, Antonio was silent for a long few seconds. Lovino worried that he'd said too much, and just as he was opening his mouth to revoke the things he had said:

"Lovino, I'll be down at the police station in just a few minutes. Just wait for me, okay?"

Lovino let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. "Okay," he whispered, his worried mind at ease. He hung up the phone, placing his hands in his lap and staring at his knuckles as he clenched and unclenched his hands.

Minutes passed like molasses, but eventually Antonio entered the police station in jeans and a hastily thrown on, wrinkled t shirt. The hood to his winter coat was still tucked into the coat itself, and he had been trying to pull it out the whole way to the station. He flashed his badge to the officers in the station, requesting to see Arthur and Lovino immediately. He was escorted back, and as soon as he saw Lovino sitting in the chair all by himself he hurried to his side.

"Lovino!" Antonio slid down in front of him, placing his hands on the Italian's slim shoulders. "Lovino, are you hurt?"

Lovino stared at Antonio for a few seconds, shocked and delighted all at the same time that the man had actually shown up so close to midnight. He shook his head, whispering a soft "no" to Antonio's question, and attempted to blink away the confusion and fear in his mind. He didn't want to appear weak in front of Antonio, nor any of the other cops and detectives that were hovering around. He took a deep breath, composing himself, and looked back into the Spaniard's eyes, mustering up the truest half-hearted smile he could.

Much to his surprise, however, Antonio wrapped him in a hug and held him tightly against his chest. Lovino literally tried to swallow the blush on his cheeks when they finally broke apart and coughed to cover up his face. Antonio pulled a chair over and stared at Lovino.

"Can you tell me exactly what happened?" he asked him.

Lovino nodded, swallowing again. "Well, I had to close the bar and Arthur wasn't around so I decided to just walk home. I mean, I live two blocks from the place anyway, so I figured I'd just go. For some reason I decided to cut through an alley to get to my street but when I was about half way through, this guy jumped on me. He ended up pinning me down and he had a knife to my throat and he was going to kill me. Then Arthur showed up and I told you the rest on the phone."

"Lovino," Antonio leaned forward slightly, "what _exactly_ did he say to you?"

"He said that he was instructed to get rid of me."

"Instructed by whom?"

Lovino shrugged slightly. "He didn't say."

Antonio sighed in frustration. "Of course he didn't." He stood and began to pace, his eyebrows furrowed and a deep frown on his face.

"I'm sorry," Lovino mumbled. He didn't know why but he felt truly sorry for not being able to provide more information.

Antonio gave him a sympathetic smile. "Oh Lovino, it isn't your fault. I wouldn't expect you to be worried about those kinds of things while your life was in so much danger. I would like to talk to Arthur though."

Lovino nodded and turned his attention to a female detective that had brought him some food. He nibbled at the burger, watching Antonio converse with other detectives about the case, and he wondered if Antonio was doing this because of the FBI or because of Lovino, or both. He smiled despite himself, hoping that maybe, just maybe, someone like Antonio cared that much about someone like himself.

* * *

Meanwhile, Alfred had managed to get Arthur alone in a room at the back of the station. He pushed the door shut behind him as he walked in, pushing until it softly clicked and then locking it. Arthur looked around the dim room, and as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light he saw a few pathetic excuses for bunks designed for the officers and detectives to sleep on when working all night. He turned back to Alfred, who had removed his glasses and was massaging his eyes. He looked up and Arthur was startled to see the boy's blue eyes sparkling with tears.

"Alfred…" he said softly, pressing his lips together slightly to avoid frowning.

Alfred approached him slowly, faltering a little in his steps. "Arthur," he whispered, his voice shaking slightly, "I know you told the other detectives that you aren't hurt but you're really not, are you?"

"No, Alfred, I'm perfectly fine," Arthur replied.

"I can't believe you actually tried to fight that guy, Arthur. You could have gotten killed. What if you had gotten stabbed? What if he had had a partner?" Alfred paced as he threw these statements and questions at Arthur, throwing his hands around, his distress evident in his voice.

"What was I supposed to do, Alfred?" Arthur folded his arms across his chest and took a defensive stance. "Lovino _was_ going to be killed. I wasn't about to just let that happen to him. It's my job to take care of him."

"What is your infatuation with that Italian?" Alfred threw his hand towards the door as if pointing at an invisible Lovino.

"You don't know where he came from, Al. He's my employee, my favorite one as a matter of fact, and he's my friend. I've taken it upon myself to keep an eye on him around here. The Bronx isn't the best place to be residing, but it's all I could find for him where I could help him all the time. I mean, I set up my bar here to help the people that deserve a chance at getting out of this lifestyle. I created a job opportunity for many people, and Lovino is among those people that deserve a chance at a better life." Arthur felt the need to roll his eyes. He didn't really understand why he was having this conversation with Alfred _again_ after so many fights over this exact subject.

"Why won't you tell me where he came from then? So I can understand why you're so obsessed with him?" Alfred's face was flushed from the heat of the conversation.

"I've told you Alfred, I can't. I made an oath, and I keep my word." Arthur dropped his arms to his sides and approached Alfred slowly, who was now trembling slightly. "Al, trust me. I know what I'm doing, and I know that what I did tonight was dangerous. It was a risk I was willing to take for my friend. A risk I'd be willing to take for you." Arthur had reached Alfred now, and he cupped his cheeks softly, lifting his face up to his.

Alfred's eyes were wide, and his eyes still sparkled with tears. "Really?" he whispered. "Do you really mean that, Arthur?"

"With all of my heart," Arthur replied. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Alfred's, deepening the kiss when Alfred moaned in approval.

Alfred brought his hands up to entangle his fingers in Arthur's hair, pulling away slightly to breathe. Arthur kissed Alfred's forehead and then pressed his against it, closing his eyes. He could feel Alfred's breath on his cheek and pulled him closer to his body. Alfred rested his head on Arthur's shoulder, breathing in the Englishman's scent deeply.

"Don't you ever do something like that again, Arthur," Alfred whispered.

Arthur smiled softly and pulled Alfred away to kiss his lips softly again. "I'll try my best."

* * *

Lovino stood outside in the freezing cold as Antonio pulled his car around to the front of the police station. After Antonio had talked to Arthur about what he had seen and what Lovino's attacker had looked like, Antonio, Arthur, and Alfred had all insisted that Lovino not stay at home for at least a night and stay with someone else. Alfred informed him that the police were going to set up a watch of the apartment building to keep an eye out for the mugger in case he returned, and that if Lovino felt uncomfortable when he did return home that they would keep a patrol car outside of the building at night. Lovino said that he would call if he felt that that was necessary, and after a small argument with Arthur, resigned to staying with Antonio at Francis' in Manhattan at least for a night.

Now Lovino stood on the steps to the police station, shivering inside of his jacket from the cold and from exhaustion. It was almost three in the morning and Lovino had been up since eight that previous morning. Not to mention the exhaustion that came from the stress of the night. He was thankful that Antonio wanted to help him, and he knew that Francis wouldn't mind him sleeping at his place for a night or two as soon as he found out what had happened, but that still didn't change the fact that Lovino really hated going over to Francis'.

Antonio brought his car around and Lovino trotted down the steps to the passenger side of the car. He slid in and shut the door against the cold, sighing in content as soon as the heat inside the car reached his cheeks. He huddled in his seat, his hands tucked under his armpits, shivering. Antonio locked the doors and Lovino clicked his seatbelt in place as his escort pulled away from the curb.

"Do you want me to stop at your place and go get some things for you?" Antonio asked.

"Alfred said that I shouldn't go back there tonight and I don't want you in there alone," Lovino replied.

Antonio grinned. "I'll just grab some clothes and your toothbrush and such. Lovino, I have police and FBI training, I think I would be okay in your apartment for ten minutes alone."

"Well, maybe I don't want you in my apartment for ten minutes alone," Lovino shot back.

"Why not? Have you got something to hide?" Antonio grinned, glancing over at Lovino as he drove.

"No."

Antonio stopped at a red light and looked at Lovino full on. "Maybe you're just afraid to be in the car alone?"

Lovino scoffed. "That's not it at all, stupid. I can take care of myself."

"Being afraid after what happened to you tonight is nothing to be ashamed of, Lovino. I can drop you off at Francis' and then go back to your apartment if you'd like?"

"I'll just go in with you," Lovino replied.

Antonio shook his head. "No, no. You either go to Francis' or you stay in the car."

Lovino rolled his eyes and flopped back against the seat. "Fine. I'll sit in the car."

Antonio pulled up to the curb by Lovino's apartment building and took Lovino's keys from him. He got out after telling Lovino to lock the doors and to call him if anything happened at all. Lovino waited in the quiet, looking around the dark street for anyone that was lurking in the shadows. He saw slight movements out of the corners of his eyes, although nothing was there whenever he looked. He knew that the dark was playing tricks on his mind, teaming up with his exhaustion, and he refused to admit that he was a little edgy on his own. He watched the front door to his building for Antonio, praying for him to come back quickly.

He then realized that Antonio was in his apartment, going through his clothes, touching personal pieces of clothing like his undergarments. He blushed deeply and shook his head, in disbelief that he had allowed for this to happen. He regretted cutting through the alleyway, and he regretted not insisting that he go in and get his belongings. He was also a little surprised with himself – he usually put up more of a fight when it came to people telling him what to do. He decided that it was a result of shock and tiredness. He didn't feel like fighting.

He jumped violently when someone knocked on the driver's side window. He looked over to see Antonio grinning down at him, pointing to the lock. He hit the button to unlock the car and Antonio opened the back door, tossing a bag full of Lovino's clothes in, and then sliding into his spot behind the wheel of the car.

"Are you okay?" he asked Lovino, locking the doors again.

"I'm fine," Lovino muttered, huddling back down in his seat.

"Do you want me to stop somewhere and get you something to eat?"

"I just want to go to sleep." Lovino was thankful that Arthur had given him the next day off, telling him that he would take over his shift for him.

Antonio gave him a sympathetic look and nodded. "Okay, we'll just go straight to Francis'. I'll take the couch, okay? You sleep in my room."

"You have your own room?"

Antonio smiled. "Well, it's a guest room really, but I'm going to be here for a while so Francis just gave me my own room."

"Thanks."

Antonio sighed softly and glanced over at Lovino. "So," he began slowly, "I, um, I saw Ludwig yesterday."

Lovino looked at him and narrowed his eyes slightly. "Ludwig? Gilbert's little brother?"

"Yeah. Gilbert had told me that he was dating your little brother."

Lovino looked away and crossed his arms again. "Yeah, he was."

"Was? So, they aren't together anymore?"

"No."

Antonio sensed some tension in Lovino's body language and in his voice, and he wondered if he should just drop the subject.

"I knew him when he was a kid. I practically watched him grow up," he said, deciding that he'd try to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"That's cool," Lovino replied, now looking out the passenger side window.

"I didn't know that he was in a psychiatric facility. I never thought that he would end up somewhere like that. I don't really understand it."

Lovino sighed. "Yeah, it's hard to understand, I guess if you've never been in that kind of situation I mean."

Antonio glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "What kind of situation is that?"

Lovino shrugged. "I don't know."

"I asked him about your brother." Antonio knew he was going to regret this whole conversation, but his curiosity was taking over now. He wanted to know about Feliciano.

Now Lovino full on glared at him. "Look, Antonio, you need to leave Ludwig alone. He's getting help and he doesn't need someone else making it harder to heal. And you need to stop asking questions about my brother. Just drop the subject all around, got it?"

The venom in Lovino's voice startled Antonio, and he realized that talking about Feliciano caused Lovino pain. He realized that he had caused Ludwig pain too, and he felt a deep pang of guilt in his chest.

"I'm sorry, Lovino," he whispered. He thought about the way everyone acted when it came to Feliciano, and he started to fit the puzzle pieces together. He knew now that he had crossed a line that should have been left untouched, and he worried that Lovino would hate him for it.

Lovino leaned against the window and closed his eyes. "Just please, don't ask any more questions."

The conversation ended there. When the two reached Francis' home, Lovino grabbed his bag and Antonio showed him to his room. Lovino shut the door and locked it without saying anything else to Antonio.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.**

* * *

After Lovino and Antonio's conversation in the car, Lovino hadn't talked to Antonio more than necessary. He returned home after only three days at Francis', and he hadn't called Antonio at all despite him insisting that he call when he got home and when he went to and from work. Antonio knew that Lovino was okay because he had been speaking to Alfred on and off while working the case and Alfred had informed him that Lovino had called him a few times for false alarms. Still, however, he wished that Lovino would give him the time of day.

While he was still sulking over the seemingly evident loss of his new friend, his superiors had felt the need to send reinforcement for the case against Ivan. Antonio was pleased the day that his longtime partner, Special Agent Berwald Oxenstierna, showed up on Francis' doorstep. His expression was blank, as it most often was, and he towered over Antonio. Despite his intimidating appearance, Antonio knew him to be one of the kindest and compassionate detectives that he had ever met. They had been partnered on a missing persons case five years ago in California, when Antonio had just started his work with the FBI, and the case had taken them to Antonio's homeland of Spain. Berwald had picked up on clues that Antonio had completely missed, and when they had found the kidnapped girl, Berwald had been a pro at comforting her and keeping her calm all the way back to California and until she had been reunited with her parents. Antonio had admired his skills and passion for the job and Berwald had praised Antonio for being one of the best rookies that he'd ever worked alongside. They had been partners ever since.

Antonio broke into a wide smile and awkwardly embraced the giant man. "Berwald! It's good to see you!"

"And you too, Toni," Berwald replied quietly. He never raised his voice more than that, and most people found that alarming. However, Antonio just found it unique and soothing. He enjoyed having long conversations with him.

A small blonde boy poked his head around Berwald's back and tapped Berwald's arm.

"Berwald," he said softly, "are you going to introduce me?"

Berwald stepped to the side and Antonio got a full look at the young man hidden behind him. He had a young, pleasant face and light blonde hair, and he looked like he had smiling eyes.

"Antonio, this is Tino Vainamainen. I was assigned to look after him," Berwald said quickly, in an almost dismissive tone.

Tino looked irritated and scrunched his face at Berwald. "He was not. I was placed with him to learn about being a special agent. I was trained to be a sniper but I was moved to this side of the states and repositioned as an agent. He's my mentor, not my babysitter."

Berwald looked at Antonio and slightly shook his head, breaking his usual stony complexion to give a very slight grin. Antonio grinned back, and then looked at Tino and smiled, holding out his hand.

"It's very nice to meet you, Tino. And good luck with your training," he said pleasantly.

"Thanks, it's nice to meet you too!" Tino shook Antonio's hand heartily and smiled widely.

Antonio invited them in and introduced them to Francis. The four of them talked for a while and Francis showed them to guest bedrooms for the time that they would be staying in New York. That evening Antonio and Berwald sat in the kitchen going over the notes that Antonio had made and collected from Alfred and his partners.

Berwald flipped through the papers, examining all of the possible leads and the history of Ivan Braginski.

"Antonio," he said at one point, "I feel like this Vargas name is familiar."

Antonio frowned. "I don't really know why. His file is clean. I mean, he doesn't really have a file save for the incident with that mugger."

"You think the mugger worked for Braginski?"

"No other mafia is active in the New York City boroughs at the moment. He suddenly showed up back on the radar in the middle of it all, and then Lovino gets attacked. It seems like it could be a probable lead, since the kid that attacked him said he was instructed to do so."

Berwald pressed his lips together, looking a little concerned. "Why would this Vargas kid be a target for the Russian mafia, though?"

Antonio sighed and put his forehead on the counter. "I haven't figured that out yet."

"Do they have a past?"

Antonio shook his head. "I don't think so. I mean, Lovino hasn't done anything wrong. He's just a poor kid that should be in college but for some reason lives in the Bronx and works as a bartender."

Berwald eyed his friend. "You seem concerned deeply for this young man."

Antonio sighed softly. "He called me when he was at the police station. He told me that he was scared and he wanted me to come there. But I started a stupid conversation with him and it messed everything up and now he won't talk to me."

"What did you say?"

"I asked him about his little brother. I had been asking about him for a few days before the conversation, to my friend Gilbert and I went to see Gilbert's little brother Ludwig, but I think something really horrible happened to the kid and no one wants to talk about it but I pushed it too far."

Antonio looked completely heartbroken and tortured to Berwald.

"Have you looked up the boy's name?" Berwald asked.

"I decided to drop the whole thing because Lovino was so upset about it and I just let it go." Antonio shook his head and sighed. "He won't call me back."

Berwald blinked at him and grinned. "Don't worry about it Antonio."

Antonio looked up at his friend. "I can't help it."

There was a moment of silence and then it was broken by Antonio's cell phone ringing. He looked at the caller ID and then pressed the answer button.

"Hello?"

"Special Agent Carriedo?" the voice on the other end belonged to a woman.

"Speaking," Antonio replied.

"I was told to contact you and ask you to come to the police station immediately. Officer Jones says that your suspect has been arrested."

* * *

Antonio walked in to the interrogation room, pushing the door shut and dropping his file of papers on the table before him. Behind the mirrored glass, Berwald, Tino, and Alfred stood, watching and listening. Antonio was shocked to learn that the suspect was, in fact, a woman. Alfred had told him that she had a much lower voice than what was thought to belong to a woman, and it would have been easy for Lovino to mistake her for a man.

"Natasha," Antonio began. He sat down across from the sneering woman and folded his hands. "Let's talk."

"Are you the nice cop? Your friend wasn't too intimidating, though. Maybe he should reevaluate his position as Mister Bad Cop," Natasha spat back, narrowing her eyes at Antonio.

Sighing, Antonio rolled his shoulders. "Why did you attack the Vargas boy?"

"Didn't he tell you already? I was instructed to do so and I was carrying out my orders."

Antonio stood. "Instructed by whom?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Do you really think I would tell you that? You're not as smart as you look, Detective."

Antonio placed his hands on the table and looked her square in the eye. "Why is Braginski targeting Lovino?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Antonio examined her for a moment, taking in her body language and little movements. Despite being handcuffed to the table, she was fidgeting her fingers just slightly. It would look natural if she didn't only do it when she responded to questions about Ivan. And her eyes shifted around the room frequently. She was sweating slightly, and she swallowed hard before she spoke and in these moments of silence. She was a good one, but she was a liar.

"You're lying," Antonio replied. He said it with such conviction that Natasha looked at him directly, looking a little shocked. "I can see it on your face." He leaned in closer to her. "Now, tell me. What does Braginski want with Lovino?"

Natasha sneered again, sitting back in her chair. "How am I supposed to know? I just do what I'm told."

Antonio slammed his hands down in anger. "What are you hiding for the bastard, huh?" He slid the chair out and sat hard, leaning across the table slightly. "Where is Ivan? He fell off the radar for so long and suddenly he's back? What is he up to?"

"I'm not telling you anything, honey. But you play a good bad cop."

Antonio swallowed and huffed out his breath through his nose. "I can cut you a deal with the judge. You'll spend less time in prison, but you have to tell me what you know about Ivan and why he's attacking Lovino."

Natasha was quiet for a moment, and then she grinned. "It keeps going back to the Vargas boy, huh? I don't want your deals. But I do want to know why you care so much for poor little Lovino. I'll be sure that my boss knows just how important he is to you, Detective."

Antonio gritted his teeth at the indirect threat on Lovino. His blood boiled, and suddenly he let out a guttural growl, launching himself across the table at Natasha. Before he could reach her though, he was floating, being held midair by Berwald. Berwald placed him down and drug him out of the interrogation room as Alfred went in to remove Natasha.

"That's enough," Berwald said quietly, holding the still struggling Antonio down. Tino stood by with wide eyes, looking back through the mirrored window into the now empty interrogation room where Antonio's chair sat thrown into the corner.

"She threatened Lovino!" Antonio exclaimed, pushing Berwald's hands away from him. Alfred reentered the room then. "Do _not _let her call _anyone_!" Antonio barked at him.

"She's not getting any phone calls and she's not going anywhere, Antonio," Alfred assured him. "You've got to chill out, though. You're lucky Jolly Green Giant over here grabbed you before you could lay your hands on her. You'd be in some deep shit if you had gotten a hold of her."

Antonio took a deep breath to compose himself. Alfred was right. He couldn't react that way with suspects or even those that were obviously guilty. He still felt his blood boiling though, and he knew that Lovino needed to be protected at all costs.

* * *

Lovino looked up as Arthur walked into the bar from the side entrance. Arthur slid into a stool and smiled up at his employee.

"How are you doing, Lovino?" he asked.

Lovino grinned. "I'm the same as I was yesterday, sir. And the day before, and the day before that, and all the other days before that. You can stop asking."

Arthur sighed. "You haven't heard then from Antonio?"

Lovino blinked. "I haven't talked to Antonio in over a week. What are you talking about?"

"They arrested the woman that had attacked you."

Lovino blinked again in surprise and then laughed nervously. "W-woman?"

Arthur chuckled. "Yeah, I was surprised too, but yes, a woman."

Lovino shook his head. "I wasn't attacked by a woman. I wasn't overpowered by a woman."

"Oh but you were." Arthur stood and walked around behind the bar, pouring whisky into a shot glass. He handed it to Lovino. "Here," he said, "it will ease some of the pain in your pride."

Lovino glared at him. "Oh shut up," he mumbled, taking the glass and gulping down the burning alcohol.

Arthur watched for a moment as the Italian grabbed his cloth to begin polishing the already shining bar, and sighed.

"Lovino, if you'd like, you can stay at my place for a little while. I can give you rides to work and you'll feel safer," Arthur offered softly.

Lovino shook his head. "Thanks Arthur, but I think I'll be okay at home. I mean, after the extra deadbolts you installed on my front door and my bedroom door, and the extra locks on my windows, I pretty much feel like I live in a safe house."

Arthur smiled slightly. "Well, I'll drive you to and from work then until all of this gets settled."

"What about your real job?" Lovino looked at his boss with a frown. "It's not your job to take care of me, Arthur. I'm an adult, I can handle myself."

"All of those stuffy business meetings will have to wait." Arthur walked around the bar and grabbed his coat. "You are my best employee, you know. I can't have you getting killed or something stupid like that." He grinned at Lovino as he walked back to his office and Lovino just shook his head, smiling.

But when Arthur was out of sight, the smile faded. Lovino didn't know how he felt. He was glad that his attacker had been caught, but Arthur had offered for him to stay at his place, and Arthur had obviously talked to Alfred. So that meant that he was still in danger. Lovino also hadn't contacted Antonio in over a week. He felt awkward and unhappy with him, but he was also scared and wondered if it would be better to swallow his hurt feelings and call his friend.

Yet another problem – Antonio being his friend. Lovino wasn't sure about how he felt towards Antonio, but he was even more unsure of Antonio's feelings toward him at all. Lovino didn't want to admit that he enjoyed Antonio's company in a way that felt more than how he enjoyed Arthur's company. He didn't want to admit that he would feel safer if Antonio were with him, and he didn't want to admit that maybe he liked Antonio more than normal. But he was also afraid of Antonio's feelings. Antonio seemed protective, but maybe he was just doing his job. Maybe Lovino was reading everything all wrong. And if that were the case, he'd spend the rest of his existence being embarrassed.

Sighing, Lovino looked around the nearly empty bar and shivered. He felt like he was being watched, and though he hadn't told anyone, he'd felt unsafe since the night he was attacked. He'd called his grandfather a few times, but he'd avoided telling Roma what was going on. He didn't want him to worry, and he didn't want his grandpa showing up and putting himself in any danger that still existed.

"Lovino."

Lovino jumped and turned to look back behind the bar. Arthur stood there with his car keys. The blonde man blinked, frowning at Lovino.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just came to get you since you get off now and I was going to take you home."

Lovino looked at the clock. It was already nine o'clock, but he didn't really get off until the next bartender showed up.

"I can wait, sir," Lovino replied.

Arthur shook his head. "Come on, I'll take you home. Elizaveta won't be in for a little while, and it takes me five minutes to drive you home. I'll just cover for her until she shows up."

Lovino shrugged and went to the back to grab his coat and his tips. He then followed Arthur to his car and slid in. Arthur rounded the corner and took him a few blocks over before circling back like he always did. He said that it threw off anyone that might be snooping, and now, anyone who may be following.

"Thanks, Arthur." Lovino got out of the car and waved at him. "I should start tipping you. Do you need gas money?"

Arthur shook his head and smiled. "No need, Lovino. Stay safe, okay? Call me if you need anything."

"Okay. Thanks again, Arthur. See you tomorrow."

Arthur drove away and Lovino made his way up to his apartment building. He had to shuffle through a few trash bags on the second floor and stepped over countless Barbie dolls as he walked up the steps.

He made his way down the hall to his apartment door, pulling his keys out of his pocket, but when he looked up he saw something scrawled across the front of his door in the dim lighting. He walked over slowly, and when he made it to his door his blood ran cold.

_You can't hide little Lovi._

* * *

Back at the bar, Arthur stood behind the bar serving the occasional drink to the few veterans that hung around. He sighed to himself. Business had been slow, and he wondered if he should change some things to make younger kids more attracted to the place. He didn't want to cause his employees more trouble, though.

He turned when someone slid into the stool behind him.

"Evening, Kirkland."

Arthur scowled. Ivan sat across from him, grinning like an alley cat, tapping his fingers on the bar.

"Can I get some vodka?" he asked innocently.

"You can get out of my bar, Braginski," Arthur growled, polishing a shot glass.

Ivan tssked. "Now, now, Arthur. That's no way to treat a customer."

"I don't want your bloody business, Ivan. Get out before I call the police."

Ivan grinned. "The police, yeah? You mean your pretty little rookie boyfriend? He's a reckless one, I'll say."

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the Russian.

"Listen here, Kirkland. I want your little hero to back off. Vargas is mine, and there's nothing that pretty little Alfred Jones can do about it." Ivan leaned over the bar, lowering his voice slightly.

Arthur glared back. "You keep away from Lovino, Ivan. And I can't control Alfred. He does his job and he does it without my say so."

Ivan stood, still leaning over the bar slightly and looking Arthur square in the eyes. "Well, you better make sure he listens to you this time. Because if he doesn't, your little hero will go out on a call and he'll never come back."

Ivan then turned, flashing Arthur a menacing grin as he exited the bar. Arthur stood in shock, his eyes wide. Ivan had just directly threatened Alfred, and he was officially terrified.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N (Warning): There's some sexual content implied later on in this chapter. If you don't really like that or don't want to read it (or if you don't ship USUK), just move on once the characters have left the police station.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters.**

* * *

Alfred climbed the steps to Lovino's floor, pushing his way through the filth that covered the steps. He walked down the hall that was crowded with other police officers and curious tenants of the building, making his way over to Lovino. The Italian sat trembling on the floor, wrapped in a blanket that one of the female officers had provided.

"Hey, Lovino," Alfred said softly, sitting down next to him. He glanced up at the door to his apartment, reading the words hastily scrawled across it. "How are you doing?"

Lovino shrugged, pulling the blanket around him more tightly.

Alfred sighed. He knew that Lovino was terrified to begin with, and now this had happened. How much more threatened could you feel?

"Did you see anyone coming out of the apartment building as you came in?"

Lovino shook his head.

"Did your neighbors see anything?"

Again Lovino shrugged. Alfred patted his shoulder and stood, walking over to his partner, Officer Kiku Honda.

"Kiku," Alfred tapped his shoulder. "I'm going to take Lovino to the station. He needs to be away from here."

Kiku nodded and then continued asking Lovino's neighbor questions. Alfred went back to Lovino, helping him up and leading him out of the building. Lovino sat silent the whole ride to the police station, trembling in his seat. Alfred felt sorry for him. He couldn't imagine what it felt like to be so directly threatened. When they arrived at the station, Alfred led Lovino in. Another officer passed by them and Alfred got her attention.

"Can you get him some water and maybe a candy bar or something?" he asked quietly. The female officer nodded and took off.

"Lovino?"

The pair turned to see Arthur coming from Alfred's desk.

"Lovino." Arthur grabbed Lovino's shoulders and forced him to look at him. "What happened?"

"There was a threat written on his apartment door. He called me directly. The other officers are down there taking any statements from neighbors and taking pictures of the door," Alfred responded, answering for Lovino.

Arthur looked shocked, turning back to look at Lovino. "Are you hurt?"

Lovino shook his head. Arthur walked with him to Alfred's desk, sitting him down in the chair and pulling the blanket around his shoulders more snuggly. Then he turned to Alfred.

"I need to talk to you," he said quietly.

Alfred blinked. "What?"

Arthur looked around, and then eyed Lovino. "Can it be somewhere more private?"

Alfred led Arthur around the corner, just out of Lovino's earshot. "What?" he asked again.

"You need to get off of this case. Give it to someone else, tell your chief that it's too personal for you, something," Arthur whispered hastily.

"Wh – No!" Alfred furrowed his eyebrows, crossing his arms. "I've been working this case for this long now; I'm not just going to give it away."

"Al, please," Arthur begged.

"No, Arthur. Antonio would have to clue in a new officer, and Lovino would have to deal with everything all over again with someone that he doesn't know at all. You've told me yourself that the kid has trust issues. At least he knows and trusts me. You can't do that to him."

Arthur sighed heavily. "Alfred, Ivan threatened you directly."

Alfred's breath caught slightly. "Wh-what?"

Arthur grabbed Alfred's arms, his hands trembling. "He threatened to kill you, Alfred. Please, just this once, listen to me. I can't lose you."

Alfred stared at Arthur with wide blue eyes. The Englishman stared directly back, his eyes shimmering. Alfred had never seen Arthur get so emotional before. Alfred took his hands and pushed them back to Arthur's side gently.

"Arthur," he murmured softly, "I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But I can't just leave Lovino hanging. This is my job, and I have to accept the risks. I can't just run away every time I get threatened. I'll be okay, though."

"How do you know?" Arthur mumbled back.

Alfred smiled. "Because I have you looking out for me."

Over at Alfred's desk, Lovino sat still trembling. He reached into his pocket and, this time without any doubt in his mind, called Antonio.

The phone rang and rang, and Lovino began to fear that Antonio wouldn't pick up. Finally though, the ringing stopped, and Antonio's voice replaced it.

"Lovino?" Antonio sounded out of breath, like he had had to run to get his phone. "Lovino, is that you?"

Lovino couldn't seem to form the words, but then he finally managed to choke out: "Police station… please hurry…"

Antonio didn't even say goodbye. The other line clicked and went dead, and Lovino pushed his phone shut quietly. He knew that Antonio was coming to him, and he knew that he was safe. He just had to wait a few minutes. In the meantime, he sipped his water and sat with Arthur as Alfred made phone calls and talked with the officers that returned from Lovino's apartment. He learned that there were no signs of a break-in, and that it seemed only that whoever did it had only written the words on the front door and left. Lovino felt relief from that fact, but he still trembled from the invasion of security in his life.

Finally, Antonio burst into the police station and ran over to Lovino. He knelt in front of him, just as he had the first time they met like this, and grabbed his shoulders.

"Lovino, are you hurt? What happened?" he asked rapidly, squeezing Lovino's shoulders gently.

Lovino stared at Antonio for a moment, just taking in the Spaniard's face and his soft green eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, to answer Antonio's questions, but he suddenly felt something break inside of him and instead of words coming out, he began to sob. Antonio pulled him against his chest and held him there, stroking his hair softly and whispering soothing things to him. Lovino leaned against Antonio's shoulder, trembling and terrified, and he let out all of the fear and tears and anxiety that he had buried since all of this had began. He grasped Antonio's coat tightly in his fingers, holding himself against him with all of his might. He needed the comfort that Antonio provided; he needed to feel the sense of security and safety that came with Antonio's presence.

"Someone wrote a threat on his apartment door," Alfred said, answering Antonio's question.

Antonio pulled Lovino away a little and took his blanket to wipe the tears off of Lovino's face gently. "Lovino," he ran his thumbs over the boy's cheeks and caught a few more tears, "are you hurt?"

Lovino shook his head and sniffled, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. Arthur handed him some tissues and patted his back gently.

"Lovino, I don't think you should be alone anymore," Arthur said, eyeing the still sniffling Lovino with worry in his eyes.

"I agree. You need to be placed in protective custody or something," Alfred added, flipping through a stack of papers on his desk.

Antonio pulled a chair over and sat next to Lovino, still stroking his hair softly to comfort him. "You can come back to Francis'," he told Lovino. "I'm sure Francis would be more than happy to give you a room."

Lovino pulled his blanket around him tightly and shook his head. _I can't go to Francis' house_, he thought. _If he sees that I have any kind of feelings for Antonio, which he will, he'll make a big deal out of it and then Antonio will know. And if Antonio doesn't have those feelings for me then I'll just feel like a total idiot._

"I need to work," Lovino said quietly, his voice cracking a little.

Arthur scoffed. "Lovino, you can keep your job after this. If it's safer for you to stay away from work then so be it."

"No." Lovino sat up straight in his chair and cleared his throat. "I need some kind of normality in my life right now. Working will keep me sane. I don't want to run and hide. I want to stay at home."

Antonio nodded. "I can stay with you if you'd like."

Lovino looked up at him and felt his cheeks get dusted with a slight blush. _Antonio seems so willing to keep me safe and to protect me. I don't know what that means, though. He acts like he's just doing his job but then when we're alone he acts like this means so much more to him, like I mean so much more to him. I'm so confused._

Lovino simply nodded. He wanted Antonio to stay with him.

"I'll go call my superiors and brief them on the situation." Antonio stood and walked around the corner to a more quiet area of the station.

Arthur looked up at Alfred still scanning the paperwork on his desk.

"Alfred, maybe you should come to stay with me," Arthur said quietly. Alfred looked down at him and smiled.

"You're not going to let this go, are you?" he asked.

Arthur's face got a little red. "Do you think this is a joke you bloody idiot?"

Alfred chuckled. "No, love. I know that you're serious about this. That's fine with me. I'll come to stay with you if it'll make you feel safer."

"This isn't for me you twit. It's to protect your dumb ass," Arthur shot back. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, taking on an indignant mood. "If you want to joke about this then you can just stay at home."

Alfred frowned and touched his lover's shoulder. "Oh, Arty, don't be so serious. I'll come to stay with you so you know I'm safe."

Lovino looked up curiously. "What's going on with Alfred?"

"Ivan came into the bar and threatened him," Arthur replied quietly.

Lovino's eyes widened drastically. "Alfred, I'm sorry. You don't need to be dragged into this too," he said rapidly.

"You didn't tell me that he came into the bar," Alfred said to Arthur. "I'm going to set up a patrol car outside to keep him out."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Oh please, Alfred. I'm sure Antonio will be coming with Lovino, so Ivan won't be coming around."

"He won't, will he?" Lovino whispered, sinking down in his seat.

Arthur frowned and scooted closer to the younger man. He put an arm around him and hugged him gently. "Lovino, nothing is going to happen to you. I can promise you that. Ivan will have to go through all of us to get to you, and I don't think he'd make it past Antonio without pretty much losing a limb."

Lovino smiled shyly, pulling the blanket around him again and Arthur grinned and tucked the blanket under Lovino's chin as Antonio walked back in. He smiled at Lovino and sat back down next to him.

"I'm clear to stay with you," he said, throwing an arm around Lovino's shoulders. "Congratulations Lovino, you're now under protective custody."

Arthur stood, stretching and yawning. "I'm tired. Alfred, when are you off duty?"

"I've been off duty."

"Well then, what are you waiting for? Let's go home. Lovino is in good hands."

Alfred smiled and followed Arthur after grabbing his coat. "Can we stop at McDonald's on the way home?"

"How can you eat that horrendous material that your country calls food?"

"It's better than your cooking."

Antonio shook his head and stood, holding out his hand to Lovino. "Come on," he said with a smile. "We'll stay at Francis' tonight so I can get my things. I'll make you dinner when we get there."

Lovino nodded and took Antonio's hand, letting him lead him to his car, hand-in-hand.

* * *

Arthur pushed the front door open of his Manhattan penthouse, throwing the keys onto the counter. Alfred stumbled in behind him carrying two bags of clothing and essentials from his apartment and three bags of McDonald's food. Arthur rolled his eyes at him and grabbed a couple bags from him.

"Was it really necessary to get all of that food?" Arthur asked as Alfred dumped the bags onto the counter next to the keys.

"Are you still bitter about what I said about your cooking down at the station?" Alfred chuckled and turned to the Englishman. "Honey, you need to learn to laugh at yourself."

Arthur rolled his eyes again. "I still think my cooking is better than that rubbish."

Alfred smiled. "It is, dear. It's much better."

"Don't flatter me."

"See?" Alfred thrust his hands towards Arthur accusingly. "I can't win!"

Arthur grinned. "No, no you can't." He walked towards the back of his penthouse, slipping out of the jacket of his suit.

"Do you want some french fries?" Alfred called from the kitchen.

"No," Arthur called back, hanging up his jacket in the closet and slipping on a plain white t shirt and plaid sweatpants. He returned to the front of his home and Alfred stood in the kitchen, grinning like a fool.

"What?" Arthur asked, looking around and then touching his hair. "Is my hair sticking up again? I need to get it cut, I know."

Alfred shook his head. "I like it when you wear your pajamas in front of me. You're always so stuffy and prissy, so when you just let go of that and be yourself around me, I really enjoy it."

Arthur scoffed. "I'm not prissy!"

Alfred sat his diet Coke down and walked over to Arthur who now stood with his arms crossed. He put his arms around Arthur's shoulders and ran his fingers through the blonde man's shaggy hair.

"I don't want to fight," he whispered, smiling and looking right into Arthur's green eyes. "You were so scared for me down at the station. It was really sweet."

Arthur frowned and dropped his arms. He laid his head on Alfred's shoulder and sighed. "This isn't meant to be like one of those novels that romanticize the danger one of the characters is in, Al. This is serious." He paused for a moment and nuzzled Alfred's neck. "And I'm still scared for you."

Alfred ran his hands down Arthur's back and pulled him closer to his body, holding him to his chest tightly. "I'll be safe here with you," he whispered. "Nothing is going to happen to me, okay? I promise. I'll always be here with you, as long as you want me to be."

Arthur wrapped his arms around Alfred's waist. "I want you here forever."

Smiling, Alfred nuzzled Arthur until he moved his head to look up at him.

"Then I will be," he whispered against Arthur's lips, following the words with a deep kiss.

Arthur moaned softly in the back of his throat and let his eyes fall shut. Alfred backed Arthur up against the wall, holding him there with strong, toned arms, and Arthur pushed Alfred's coat off of his shoulders, pulling it down his arms and letting it drop to the floor with a heavy thud. He then slid his hands up Alfred's shirt, running his fingers along his lover's stomach and savoring the feeling of his hard abs underneath his fingertips. Alfred pulled away from the kiss slightly and smiled against Arthur's lips, laughing softly.

Arthur smiled back and pulled the younger man back into another kiss, breaking it only to pull their t shirts off of each other. Alfred moved his kisses to Arthur's throat, nibbling along his jaw and sucking gently on his neck, and Arthur moaned in response and tipped his head back against the wall, biting his lower lip and digging his fingertips into Alfred's hips. Alfred brought his hands up to hold Arthur's face, making him meet his gaze and then kissing him roughly, asking for entrance with the tip of his tongue. Arthur obliged immediately, hungry to taste Alfred in every way that he could.

Alfred pushed his body against Arthur's, pressing their hips together and grinding into his lover, earning a deep moan from Arthur. Breaking this kiss, Alfred returned to his oral assault on Arthur's tender neck, nipping at his skin gently and growling softly when Arthur pushed his hips against Alfred's crotch in return. Arthur entangled his fingers in Alfred's unruly blonde hair, panting from the heat that was gathering and coiling in his lower belly and moving down. Alfred kissed up Arthur's cheek until he reached his ear, swirling his tongue around it and nibbling on the lobe. Arthur moaned loudly and bit his lip again.

"Arthur," Alfred panted, kissing his cheek again. "I've never felt safer in my entire life than in your arms."

Arthur smiled and blushed. "You Americans, always trying to flatter each other." He looked into Alfred's bright blue eyes and kissed him again. "Alfred, I'm still scared. Comfort me." He winked and grinned, lust filling his eyes.

Alfred grinned back. "Come on," he purred, "You don't have to be scared anymore, I'm here." He took Arthur's hands strongly and pulled him to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing behind them.


End file.
